


Still Have You

by NeonViolet



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-06 07:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17340887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonViolet/pseuds/NeonViolet
Summary: There's a subtle, buzzing chatter in the air - a crowd of voices rising above the white noise of traffic - Isak now only a block away from After Dark, the bar Even owns and he and his friends still continue to frequent regardless of the deep animosity held between him and Even. Some days it’s easy to ignore, other days it’s not. But the drinks are cheap and the music is decent - a small price to pay sometimes, especially if it means his secrets stay quiet.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kkhymmmm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkhymmmm/gifts).



> This was created as a Skam Secret Comm exclusive, and will remain a Semi Exclusive for that community, as they are all my heart.
> 
> Two chapters are already published on The Comm (and the third chapter has been stared in my docs), and they will continue to receive chapter updates first before I post to AO3, but because of the Post-holiday slump of fics in the tag, I thought I'd start to share this fic with you.
> 
> This is something I am writing to keep the creative juices flowing for my Big Bang fic as well as my current WIPs. It's not going to be a long fic, maybe a few more chapters more (from the three that are already written).
> 
> I've never written an Enemies to Lovers trope, and I'm not sure I will do it justice - but its a favorite tag of mine because I love angst. (Always makes the ending so much more satisfying to me when the protagonists had to work for it).
> 
> Also, big shout out to [Panshambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/panshambles/pseuds/panshambles) for letting me straight up steal a scene of dialogue that I just couldn't seem to bang out on my own.
> 
> Love y'all

A shiver runs up his spine and through his neck as the sudden snap of a brisk breeze whips through his hair and clothes, an involuntary huff blows out his lips. He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, fisting them for warmth as he crosses the road, silently berating himself for choosing a long sleeved sweater and not wearing a jacket - still refusing to believe that autumn has finally begun bleeding into winter. There’s a stronger more willful part of him still attempting to grasp at whatever final shreds of warmer and lighter weather is left. It’s a futile effort, long golden days giving way to longer gray and blue-hued evenings with only the briefest amount of sun pushing its way throughout the afternoons - even if just for a few hours. But Isak is nothing if not persistent.

 

There's a subtle, buzzing chatter in the air - a crowd of voices rising above the white noise of traffic - Isak now only a block away from  _After Dark_ , the bar Even owns and that he and his friends still continue to frequent regardless of the deep animosity held between him and Even. Some days it’s easy to ignore, other days it’s not. But the drinks are cheap and the music is decent - a small price to pay sometimes, especially if it means his secrets stay quiet.

 

He walks into the bar, immediately engulfed by the sound of a guitar being plucked and tuned by the evening’s musician and a comforting heat from the over sized brick-lined fireplace that would be better placed in a ski lodge up north than a trendy venue somewhere in central Oslo. Isak stomps his feet on the carpet in the lobby, more so out of habit than necessity, and rubs his palms together - skin and bones beginning to thaw from the chill of the outside.

 

There’s a large maze of broad copper wires hanging from the ceiling and suspending a few feet from the floor, obstructing his view of the rest of the lounge. A new installation from whatever pretentious local artist Even is currently promoting in order to remain relevant in a scene he no longer belongs to. Isak scowls inwardly and quickly bypasses the monstrosity to make his way to the corner where he knows Sonja is sitting at their regular table waiting for him.

 

There’s a small head of shoulder length blonde hair bouncing from where it sits in their usual wide U-shaped booth, and he can hear his best friend speaking animatedly as he approaches from behind, raising his brows at Mutta in something between amusement and sympathy before he slides in next to her, hand settling on her leg to let her know he’s there.

 

She interrupts herself at his approach, whipping around, wide round eyes filled with excitement trained on him as she winds her arm around his waist in greeting. “Isak!” She pinches his middle in reproach. “Where the hell have you been? You haven’t answered any of my calls?” 

 

He leans in to kiss her cheek resting his arm around her shoulders and steals a glance at Mutta who looks relieved to be free from whatever tirade she cornered him into before Isak arrived, taking the opportunity to go hard on the plate of fried mozzarella in front of him.

 

“You only called me twice yesterday.” he points out. “And it was late. I text you this morning that I’d be here tonight, so...” He shrugs noncommittally. It’s a small lie in order to avoid a confrontation - and he knows she can tell.

 

The truth is neither glamorous nor something he feels like revisiting: he’d had a fight with Mathias the night before, another of many they’ve been having recently, and he was too emotionally wiped to answer a call from her - or anyone for that matter - but especially from her.

 

Sonja didn’t love Mathias, and at best, Mathias tolerated her. She found him aloof and detached, and he thought she was stuck up and too involved. And when it came down to it, they were both correct - but he loved them in spite of, and because of, those qualities. It wasn’t the most ideal situation, but they’ve been making it work for two years, and when he was really desperate to get her off his back about it, all he had to do was bring up that she’d dated Even for seven years and nothing stopped her when it became evident that he and Isak couldn’t stand each other. It was a low blow and a dick move, and he knew it. But it accomplished its goal and she would drop the subject.

 

Sometimes you have to be a dick to not be an asshole.

 

She leaned up to kiss his cheek, whispering in his ear, “You’re a liar.” before settling back into her seat against his arm, leaving him to flush momentarily in irritation at being called out.

 

Stealing a sip of her drink and wincing as the deceivingly bitter purple liquid burned its way down his throat, he watched her turn her attention back on Mutta, listening lazily in between her rapid speaking and increasing volume to make out enough bits and pieces to comprehend her passionately arguing against capital punishment for some reason. From the looks Mutta was sending him, eyes begging to be rescued, Isak could guess that he had made some throw away comment about the topic - neither agreeing nor disagreeing - and it set Sonja off.

 

Isak took another sip of Sonja’s drink and just shrugged at the man across the table. He’s been on the other end of this too many times to count, and if he’s had to endure her then so does everyone else.

 

There’s a movement next to him and two coasters are thrown across from him on the table, a couple of mugs filled with beer are placed on top as Even slides in next to Mutta, grabbing a piece of fried mozzarella and shoving it into his mouth before explaining his presence and the two drinks.

 

“Magnus and Eva just text me and said they were around the corner.”

 

Isak immediately bristles and picks up his phone for something to do, groaning when he sees his battery at 6% and puts it back face down on the table reluctantly. Even is smiling smugly at Isak, his expression a facade of friendliness, fake and condescending.

 

An expression Even has mastered.

 

An expression Isak loathes.

 

Sonja, sensing the change in the air, shifts away from Mutta, turning her body in towards Isak and gives him a grounding squeeze on his knee.

 

“Hey Ev, can we get a Crown and ginger?” Her voice is light and devoid of the insistent passion she was firing at Mutta earlier.

 

Even locks eyes on Isak - fake smile never wavering. “Can’t order your own drink?”

 

“Can’t do your job or send one of your employees over here who can?” Isak bites back, satisfied with the venom pouring out.

 

“You’re prickly tonight. Mathias not putting out, or…?”

 

“At least I’m not hitting on my customers for tips.”

 

It was a vulnerable topic for Even, an accusation Isak didn’t actually agree with despite his hatred for the man, but the mention of his boyfriend’s name on Even’s mouth had sent a hot surge of rage through his veins, so he spit it out with little thought - and even less regret - knowing he’d hit a painful spot when Even’s eyes darkened and his upturned lips formed a sick sneer.

 

“Why don’t you do everyone a favor and get fucked, eh?”

 

There’s a beat, maybe two, where they hold their stares. Isak’s breaths coming in small pants from the adrenaline pumping through him as he attempts to calm the frenzy in his brain long enough to form a retort. Both men daring the other to look away as a commotion of voices slices through the tension - a welcome change in the thick air as Magnus throws himself on the bench next to Isak, Eva scooting into Even’s spot as he slides out, mumbling an “I’ll be back.” before disappearing behind the bar and Isak taking a soothing breath, willing the heat in his skin to seep out faster, and returning his attention to his friends.

 

It’s always like this when there is little else to act as a buffer between the two of them. Harsh and heavy. Animosity and hatred that has been running through them for far too many years now to try and find a way out of it. It’s easier to disappear in a crowd though, and with the addition of Magnus and Eva, and he suspects, Mikael and Jonas within the hour, it will be easier to enjoy the evening with his friends.

 

It will. Even when Even joins them in a couple of hours and lets his assistant manager run the show for the rest of the night. Even when Even will attempt a few more snide jabs to get a rise out of Isak only to have Sonja call him out for being a dick before Isak even gets a chance to retaliate or Magnus punches Even in the arm and tells him to give it a rest.

 

His friends - they help. And alcohol. That helps too.

 

-

 

“Warm me up. I’m cold.” They’re on the tram heading home, Sonja leaning in and pressing herself into his side, hands worming their way up under his sweater until ice cold fingers touch the warm skin of his waist and he jolts at the shock.

 

“The fuck?! Get outta here with that shit.” He leans in the opposite direction, slapping away at her hands in a futile attempt to be rid of her, but she presses more firmly and unless he wants to be in the aisle - he gives in.

 

“I can’t.” Her voice is a little breathless, coming out through chattering teeth. “You’re always so warm.”

 

“Wear layers then.” he grumbles, settling back in as her hands begin to thaw and the initial shock has left his body.

 

He gets a hum in return and her head rests on his shoulder, eyes closing as she succumbs to the first wave of fatigue from the cocktails ebbing its way through her muscles.

 

Isak knows the feeling, about three Crown and gingers in he starts to feel a similar effect, but tonight he powered through with two more following up his usual three. Trying to call on any last minute attempts of forced apathy and numbness he could find in order to make the idea of going home later tonight more tolerable.

 

The thought ignited the dread he’d been pushing away all evening - not as bright as it was before he started his drinks, but not as dull as he’d like it to be either. Home didn’t feel like home anymore, and it hadn’t for some months now. It felt like a place that held his things. Like a well decorated prison. It felt like swimming underwater towards the surface, desperate for air and pushing forward harder and harder - but never managing to make it out for breath.

 

Him and Mathias were glorified roommates. Except, maybe  _glorified_  was giving it too much credit. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d had sex. Living in their apartment was a constant mastery performance of walking on eggshells in order to keep whatever state of fraught peace remained. It made it easy to stay late at work. A new job since graduating with his masters that he’d fought hard for and didn’t want to find it slipping through his fingers any time soon. So he stayed late, impressed those above him, got home and avoided his boyfriend when he could - gave obligatory responses to obligatory comments when necessary - and every Friday and most Saturday nights, he found himself at  _After Dark_ , downing the cheap drinks like they were water and pretending not to notice Sonja’s stares when he did.

 

The Even part - well that was easy enough to ignore when he realized he preferred the heated malice and hostility of his relationship with Even over the cold impassivity of the one with his boyfriend.

 

“How long do I have to wait this time?” Sonja nuzzles into him further, voice quiet but heavy.

 

He shrugs. Doesn’t pretend to not know what she’s referring to. The price you pay when remaining best friends with the same person since you were four years old - their intuition and read of you is always spot on.

 

He hears her sigh deep, feels it too.

 

“I’m too impatient this time. Let’s skip the weeks of you avoiding me in order to spare me your  _burdensome life._ ” Her inflection changes a bit, emphasizes her sarcasm as it does. “I know something's up with you and Mathias, just tell me if it’s several pints of brownie fudge ice cream bad or a couple take out containers of greasy chili cheese fries bad.”

 

He lets a smile bloom on the left corner of his lips, lifting his arm up to finally wrap around her body, settling himself further into his seat.

 

“It’s not that serious.” _Lie._

 

“You’re not even  _trying_  to lie well.”

 

And she’s right. There’s no point to it, but if she keeps asking him questions he’s going to keep feeding her more bullshit. Silence is never a good enough answer for her.

 

She’s irritating as fuck.

 

He loves her.

 

The tram rolls to a stop, both of them extracting themselves slowly from their seats and heading towards the exit, stepping out into the twilight hours of an Oslo winter's evening. The frigid air hits him like a cement wall, taking no time whatsoever to seep through his thin layers and sending waves of shivers down his limbs as his body works to find warmth in any manner it can. They both quicken their movements, speed walking with hunched shoulders to their apartment building, each one letting random sounds escape through their mouths as they fight against the cold wind that picked up during their commute home.

 

The two minute walk feels like ten, but they make it through the door on the ground level, audible sighs being released by both when the heat of the building coats over them.

 

It’s a quieter walk to the elevator, the  _tap tap_ of Isak pressing the numbers to their floors as they ride up slowly, both leaning heavily against the wall. It’s late.

 

The low  _ding_  of the bell signals Isak’s exit, reaching down to kiss the top of Sonja’s head with a quick “G’night” before he walks off. Isak on the third floor and Sonja headed for the fourth.

 

He slows his walk as he approaches his door, pauses for a moment until he can no longer find a a good enough reason to remain in the hall, and finally unlocks his apartment. Deep breath in as he closes the door behind him.

 

-

 

**__________**

 

_Mathias_

 

Where are you?

 

Were we still going out for dinner tonight?

 

At the bar. Forgot

 

Ok.

 

Should I meet you?

 

Sure.

 

**__________**

 

_Sure._

 

It’s not the most enthusiastic invite. And honestly, Isak would rather stay in - enjoy a rare evening of having the apartment to himself. Not having to worry about the stilted conversations between him and his boyfriend, or needing to jerk off in the shower instead of the comfort of his own bed. But Mathias said  _sure_ , and somewhere in there is an obligation Isak feels to making this work. Making this last. Because he still remembers the early days when they first began dating, and he wants those back. But somewhere along the line, nights cuddled up in each other’s clothing on the couch while binge watching every episode of  _Community_  turned into each of them on their own laptops or phones, headphones plugged in and ignoring the other. Evenings of planned meals being cooked by one of them while the other sat on the counter teasing and intentionally trying to disrupt the recipe, turned into  _“Don’t bother. I already ate.”_ Weekends out with friends, hands stuffed down back pockets and warm smiles being shared with the sweetest exchanges of public displays of affection morphed into— well, nothing. They don’t go out anymore.

 

It’s been over two years, and somehow Isak managed to allow one of the best things he’s had in his life turn to shit. So yeah, it’s only a  _sure_ , but he’ll grasp at whatever fucking straws are left in order to feel the comforting embrace of desire again.

 

-

 

Something doesn’t feel right.

 

That’s all he knows. It’s a feeling that engulfs him as soon as he crosses the threshold at  _After Dark_. And the anxiety isn’t a new feeling, unfortunately - and especially - when it comes to Mathias, but tonight - it’s different. Because he approaches the bar where his boyfriend is sitting and the acknowledgment from Mathias is something between shock and irritation, before turning back around to talk to the red haired guy sitting next to him. A colleague of his, Isak thinks.

 

It’s different because Even is working behind the bar and immediately approaches Isak, placing a napkin in front of him and asking “The usual?” instead of avoiding him or trying to pick a fight. It’s different because Mathias is swaying on the stool ever so slightly and Isak can tell he’s inebriated. Something out of character for him as he’s almost always irritatingly sober.

 

So, it’s just different.

 

Even comes back, Crown and ginger in hand, and places the drink on the napkin in front of Isak. There’s a worried tone carried in his eyes and something that feels like a warning. None of this settles anything inside of Isak, but he gives a quiet thank you and takes a sip - wondering if the alcohol is the wisest weapon of choice for tonight, and wondering again, why he cares.

 

Mathias sways again, this time his shoulder brushes with Isak’s as he tries to steady himself. Taking the opportunity to grab a hold of the bar counter as he does, calling out to Even.

 

“Another Long Island.” He’s demanding and his words are slow and drawn out, right arm reaching out and landing on red-heads knee. An action that speeds up the rhythm of Isak’s pulse in a sickening way and he pushes his own drink aside, too nauseous to even look at it.

 

Even remains where he’s standing in front of them, directly behind the counter. He glances at Isak - it’s quick and subtle, and Isak wishes he had stayed home tonight - before staring down Mathias, concern lacing his tone, but a solid determination that makes his next question sound more like an inarguable statement.

 

“I think you’ve had enough for tonight, yeah?”

 

There’s an undignified grunt from Mathias as he pushes back in the bar stool, standing up too quickly and knocking over the empty glass in front of him as he does. “I’ll fucking decide when I've had enough, asshole!”

 

And the whole exchange is too unbelievable for Isak to react immediately. Mathias has made a scene, belligerent in a way that he has never seen him before and reacting in a manner that seems so utterly unwarranted, it makes Isak feel a little breathless in the most uncomfortable of ways.

 

He stands up, feeling responsible, and places a hand on his boyfriend's back, watching as red-head reaches out and does the same - both men making eye contact: Isak bewildered and confused, and red-head arrogant and unbothered.

 

Even is stoic in his response, unmovable in his resolve as he simply lifts up the knocked over tumbler and places it behind the counter.

 

“I think it’s time for you to go, Mathias.” And then he does something that ignites that dread and alarm within Isak. He looks over at red-head, and gives a short nod. He doesn’t look at Isak. He doesn’t ask Isak to get his boyfriend home safely. He sends his silent communication to the man beside Mathias, the expectations and obligations that should be falling on Isak are now falling on some vaguely familiar unnamed man Isak doesn’t know - and the last five months of his hellish relationship all come pouring onto him in an onslaught of memories that become clearer with the 20/20 vision of hindsight, and he wants to throw someone against a wall and vomit at the same time.

 

He feels disgusting. He feels betrayed and embarrassed. He feels foolish. He feels like Karma is getting her way and enjoying every minute of it. because now he is able to see it all - his boyfriend has been cheating on him.

 

He can see it in the way red-head wraps an arm around his waist to steady him, a little too intimately to be platonic. He sees it in the way Mathias allows him to, leaning into his touch and letting him whisper into his ear when he can barely be bothered to spare Isak a glance when they are in their own home. He sees it in Even’s eyes that are sad and concerned and regretful. And it's then that the humiliation and distress comes hurling at him in another blow to the chest when he realizes that Even has known. Of all people to be in on this somehow, it had to be Even?

 

And it all becomes out of body from there. He’s propelled into action by the overwhelming amount of anguish charging through him and he slams a fist on the counter, shouting out a “What the fuck?!” in a voice booming enough to frighten himself. Red-head releasing his hold on Mathias to step in between them, body language instigating a fight Isak doesn’t want but can already feel is unavoidable.

 

And the entire mess comes tumbling down at the sound of Mathias’ laughter. It’s maniacal and frenzied, and another wave of nausea flows violently in his abdomen at the sound.

 

It dies down, and Mathias’ eyes clear a little as he looks at him from behind red-head’s shoulder.

 

“Yeah Isak, I've been cheating on you.” Sick smile plastered on his face as he chuckles again.

 

Even is there, appearing from nowhere and placing himself in between Isak and the two men in front of him.

 

“That’s enough Mathias.” He’s firm, but something in his calm resolve is beginning to break and it’s simultaneously grounding and unnerving, and Isak wishes desperately that he didn’t feel so paralyzed to this spot, because the amount of tension and negative energy surrounding him right now is staggering and he wants nothing more than to flee from the entire thing.

 

But Mathias, he doesn’t back down, and it feels foolish when given the size difference between him and Even. But he pushes past red-head and stands toe to toe with Even, arrogant sneer on his face as he aims his words at Isak.

 

“Did you even fucking hear me? I said I’ve been cheating on you. Months and months fucking someone else.”

 

Tears prick at the back of his eyes, and Isak maintains his position - but it’s involuntary now. He can’t move. Just stands and listens as others look on while Mathias continues this public undressing.

 

“You’re pathetic Isak. Passive as shit. I even fucked them in our bed--” He doesn’t get a chance to finish, as a fist connects with his jaw, hurling him backwards as spit and blood fly from his mouth.

 

“I said, that’s enough!” Even is heaving, shoulders rising and falling rapidly as he gathers his breath, standing over Mathias who’s clutching over his face and pushing red-head off of him as he tries to help.

 

“You motherfucker!” Mathias is upright again, skin broken above his lip, blood pouring out of his mouth and smeared over his cheek from his hands. “Crazy son of a bitch! Don’t you fucking touch me again--”

 

He’s granted another unwanted interruption when Isak finds his own fist connecting with the split side of his head. Mathias crying out and holding his battered face while he finally lets red-head aid him, and Isak hissing at the sting and throb in knuckles while Even pushes him back, profanities slipping out under his breath as he calls out for his weekend bouncer to escort the two men out and he guides Isak through the swinging door behind the bar and into a dimly lit office.

 

It’s all disorienting - being rushed from the overstimulating sounds of the bar, bodies crowding around the chaotic scene and his brain whirring too fast for him to catch up with his thoughts, and now standing in the hush of Even's office where he can hear his pulse, beating like a bass drum in a parade - the only thing he can grab onto to help stabilize his emotions. But he sits down on the deep green sofa sat against one wall, brass standing lamp shining softly beside it, and watches Even move around as he grabs two ice packs from the mini fridge next to his desk, wrapping them in towels and bringing them to the couch as sits down and angles his body towards Isak, working efficiently but gently as he takes his hand in his and examines each knuckle and finger with steady precision.

 

He places the ice on his hand, grimacing empathetically when Isak winces at the pain.

 

“It’s gonna hurt like a bitch for a while. Keep that on it.”

 

Isak hums distractedly, flexes his fist a little, swallowing down a groan, but satisfied that nothing seems broken.

 

“I didn’t know until tonight.” There's a low gravel in Even's voice, a symptom of talking over patrons all night, and the boom of his voice when he'd yelled at Mathias just a few minutes prior.

 

Isak looks up, but Even has his head tilted down as he speaks - tending to his own injured fist as he does. “About Mathias cheating, I mean.” He places the ice on his hand and slowly meets Isak’s gaze. “I didn’t know until tonight. I promise.”

 

And the thing is, Isak believes him. Even owes him nothing. He could have had Mathias escorted out long before the fight broke out - but he didn’t. There was something so protective and sincere in in his actions tonight. Something righteous in his decisions.

 

The whole situation has Isak combating a mix of anxious nerves and bravery. And this time, bravery wins.

 

“When did you know?” His voice is a little hoarse, scratched as if he’d been the one yelling all night instead of remaining silent as his world fell apart around him.

 

Even swallows thickly, but doesn’t look away.

 

“A few minutes before you arrived. They were making out when I walked in and started my shift.”

 

Isak lets out a humorless laugh, sitting back and throwing his head onto the backrest of the couch. This whole fucking night is a mess. His boyfriend had been cheating on him, he gets into a fight in a fucking bar, and Even and him are sitting alone being civil in the aftermath of the entire situation - of which Even was also defending him.

 

He needs a fucking minute. It’s too fucking perfect to be anything but pointed.

 

“Karma, man.”

 

“Isak--”

 

He stares at the ceiling, interrupting Even.

 

“I mean, I get it. I’ve been waiting for the goddamn shoe to drop, but this?" He lets out a long breath, runs his uninjured hand over his face. "Fuck.”

 

“That’s not what this is, Isak. The world isn’t paying you back for something that happened years ago.”

 

He sits up, incredulous at the insinuation that Even could possibly have any knowledge into what he is and isn’t due in life based on his own mistakes.

 

“Are you kidding me? You cheated on your girlfriend with her best friend, Even! She’s my best friend!” His voice breaks as his volume increases. “I was the other man - of course the universe is shitting on me!”

 

And there it is. What hasn’t been spoken out loud in over three years. The greatest mistake of his life: the night he betrayed Sonja by sleeping with Even - and never telling her about it.

 

Even’s face tightens. He opens his mouth to speak when the door to his office flies open, a frazzled and pissed off Sonja storming through, eyes settling on Isak and painted with relief and fear.

 

He looks back at Even in disgust. “You fucking called her?”

 

Even’s face falls. Resignation taking over and he stands up, looking away from Isak and walking towards the doorway.

 

“Make sure he keeps icing his hand.” And without another word, another glance - he walks out., slamming the door behind him.

 

He doesn't get any reprieve before Sonja starts.

 

“Wanna fucking tell me why I got a text from Even telling me to rush over here to take you home?!” Isak’s still looking at the doorway where Even disappeared from, faintly aware that Sonja has planted herself in front of him and waiting for some sort of response. “ _Even_ , Isak. Even text me to come get you. What the hell happened?!”

 

He can hear the anger in her voice diminish and melt into fear, and he snaps out of his thoughts to face his best friend. His soulmate, in many ways, and someone who definitely does not deserve to be feeling frightened and worried right now. So he gives her his attention.

 

“Mathias has been cheating on me and I found out tonight. It’s a mess and blew up and I don't want to talk about it.” He lifts the ice pack off of his knuckles, the bag beginning to melt, and Sonja collapses on the couch next to him with a deep sigh. “I punched him.”

 

There’s a pause. Silence as she digests the little information he’s given her, and then-- “Fuck.”

 

“Yeah.” he breathes out. “Fuck.”

 

They sit there together, silence filling every corner of the room - both friends in deep thought and too internally distracted to disrupt the quiet at the moment. Sonja shifts next to him, lifting the discarded Ice pack from the cushion and gingerly places it back onto his hand - now sitting on her lap. An instinctual gesture of comfort for them both.

 

“Why was Even’s hand beat up?” He looks over at her, but she keeps her head down - her voice unsure as she plays with the edge of the bag of ice and avoids his gaze.

 

There’s been too many lies exchanged for a lifetime. So he goes with the truth.

 

“He punched Mathias first.”

 

Her hands still and he sees her face lift out of the corner of his eye - his own gaze averted and focusing on the grain of the wood floor. He knows the weight of that statement and what it seems to imply. Even defending and protecting Isak. Even, who he hates and who despises him in return. He understands the bafflement she’s probably experiencing right now, but he’s tired and hasn’t really digested it all himself, so that’s all he can offer her at the moment.

 

“I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to take some painkillers and sleep for two days.” He dares a look back at her. “Can I do that?”

 

Her eyes widen at the plea in his voice. The desperation leaking out of him. And she nods slowly, sadness flooding her face.

 

“Yeah, of course. Stay with me until we get this sorted.”

 

He picks up his phone, opens up his texts, and types frantically with one hand.

 

**__________**

 

_Mathias_

 

Get your shit out of my house by tomorrow night.  
Leave the key.

 

**__________**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...what do we think??
> 
> Leave me all of the comments!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In the solitude of his home he lets everything fall off - the mask and fake attitudes - it all comes down, no longer having an audience to make him mindful of every facial expression and word that comes out of his mouth. Anything that could hint to the constant rhythm inside of him that beats for all things Even._

_**THEN** _

_“I still think I should come with you, help ease the tension a little.” Isak is sitting on Sonja’s bed in their shared apartment, surrounded by too many grey feathery pillows shedding their down onto his t-shirt while he tries, for the fourth time, to make a case for going away with her this weekend._

 

_She pauses her packing for a moment, hand holding a sweater hovered over her suitcase as she glances over at him._

 

_“Iss, you’re a literal walking ball of tension. You’d help absolutely no one.” Her tone is dry and unamused._

 

_“I’m super easy on the eyes though, I ease tension just by walking into a room.” He sends her his cheesiest smile but she ignores him, zipping up the luggage and tossing it on the floor before collapsing next to him with a deep sigh._

 

_There’s a hush that falls over them - it’s swift yet heavy in its appearance. The soft plucking of harp strings plays through a speaker somewhere in the corner - her go-to background music of choice when she’s feeling anxious, uncertain, or out of control - the only sound in the room save for the deliberate attempts of deep calming breaths escaping Sonja’s lips._

 

_They both stare forward, seated against the upholstered headboard of her bed, looking at nothing of importance and remaining quiet, allowing the silence to fill the chaotic spaces within each of them. Isak takes the moment to steal a glance at his best friend, her forehead squeezed tight with worry and eyes squinting in thought. He reaches out for her hand and, as if sensing that was what he would do in that exact moment, she immediately meets him halfway, locking her pinky around his like she has done since they were kids - a part of her always needing to touch him for some semblance of comfort._

 

_“Talk me through it one more time.” she whispers out, voice quivering the slightest amount._

 

_“Just the facts?”_

 

_“Just the facts.” She nods and Isak knows it’s for her own reassurance._

 

_He takes her hand into his lap, plays with her fingers as he begins to go over it all with her again._

 

_“It’s exploratory surgery. Every surgery has it’s risks, this one isn’t any different.” He gives her hand a gentle squeeze, looking over to see her lips moving silently and wordlessly to herself as he speaks, keeping as much emotion out of his voice as possible. “They have no plans to do anything but get a clearer look at how the cancer has spread - then they will decide a treatment plan.”_

 

_She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, just stays seated and staring ahead, her hand going limp in his. He scoots closer to her, placing both of his hands around hers, trying to force some warmth and life back into her. This isn’t the first surgery her sister has had, and unfortunately, it probably won't be her final hospitalization either._

 

_Sonja and Sarah were as opposite as siblings could be: Sonja was wild and rebellious, sneaking cigarettes from her mother's purse when she was thirteen and fearless to a fault. And Sarah, she had an innate need to please everyone around her - not only following the rules because she felt it was expected and right, but needing them in order to breathe. Somehow always caught between her loyalty to her sister and her loyalty as a daughter._

 

_He’d witnessed countless fights between the two girls growing up - many he was sure would end in someone’s death, or at the very least, detrimental injury. Constantly having to dodge tears and screams - and many times - flying hairbrushes. But as twins, they shared a unique bond he’d never himself understood, only getting to experience it vicariously through the two of them._

 

_When Sonja, at eleven years old, attempted to dye her own hair at home, only to end up with orange stripes, it was Sarah who’d stood by her at school warding off anyone who even attempted to form a mean word. Not an easy thing for a shy girl who’d rather keep her head down then have any attention brought onto herself. And when Sonja found out that Sarah had a crush on Jakob, the short brunette that she thought was cute too - she went out of her way to make sure the two of them were seated next to each other on the bus ride for their school ski trip. They fought hard, but they loved harder._

 

_And when one of them was hurting, so was the other._

_So while Isak may never fully grasp the relationship between siblings - he understands love and pain in a visceral way, and watching Sonja deal with the mental and emotional battle of her sisters’ diagnosis over the years has taken a toll on him as well, and he’d bear all of that hurt for her if he could._

 

_“Sonja.”_

 

_“Hmm?” She doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink._

 

_“She’s been in remission twice. She’s a fighter. And those are facts too.”_

 

_A subtle nod. An exhale._

 

_“Those are facts too.”_

 

_The tension in her face eases and her hand comes to life in his, squeezing back. A slight shake of her head, pulling herself out of her thoughts, and she pushes herself off of the bed, gathering her luggage and phone._

 

_“Alright, I gotta go. Don’t forget, Even is bringing Lilly back tonight after six, and he always forgets his key so try to be home.” And just like that, she’s out of her head, pushing it all down somewhere it’s easily ignored, but also easily accessible, and she’s trudging forward - switching subjects with ease._

 

_There’s a moment where Isak puts forth a maximum internal effort to keep a neutral expression on his face at the mention of Even visiting, pushing past his own recent vulnerability, only moments ago experienced, in order to maintain the seven year facade he wears like a second skin. It’s an uphill battle, but he manages._

 

 _“I don’t know why I’ve got to watch your weird shared custody dog when Even is more than capable.” He rolls his eyes as the two of them walk out of the room and towards the front door._ _“Or why the two of you share custody of a dog at all when you’re still together…” He mumbles the last part under his breath, but the arched eyebrow and pointed look she’s firing at him tells him she heard it anyway and is not amused._

 

_“Don’t be a brat, you live here - he doesn’t—“_

 

_“Also a weird thing to point out considering how long you’ve been together.” He interrupts her, only to be ignored, as usual._

 

_“Anyways - it’s my week. Plus, Even’s working like twelve hour days on some collaboration with that ugly German artist and you know how small Lilly’s bladder is. She can’t wait that long to go out.”_

 

_He tilts his head at her comment, raising one eyebrow. “Ugly?”_

 

_She raises her eyebrows right back at him, but her confidence has fallen. “Whatever. Some people i’m sure think she’s cute or pretty or whatever--”_

 

_“Don’t be petty. It’s not a good look on you.”_

 

_She picks up her duffle bag, hoisting the strap over her shoulder and shakes her head petulantly knowing she’s been called out, but too stubborn to back down entirely. “Well that can’t be true, everything looks good on me.”_

 

_They both stand at the door, Sonja dressed in black from head to toe, except for the neon yellow Adidas; and Isak in an old baseball tee and boxer briefs - because he truly cannot be bothered to put an effort in on the weekends._

 

_“Call me when you land?” he asks, reaching out to tug a strand of hair by her neck._

 

_“Will do. Put some pants on when I leave?”_

 

_“Probably not.”_

 

_“Yea.” She sighs. “It was worth a try.”_

 

_And then she’s gone._

 

_-_

 

_Isak does put pants on. He has to when he remembers Even will be present tonight, and no matter how quick that visit may be, he has more self preservation than to walk around his best friends boyfriend half naked._

 

_Because that’s what Even is; Sonja’s boyfriend._

 

_And also, the man Isak has been in love with since he was fifteen years old._

 

_In the solitude of his home he lets everything fall off - the mask and fake attitudes - it all comes down, no longer having an audience to make him mindful of every facial expression and word that comes out of his mouth. Anything that could hint to the constant rhythm inside of him that beats for all things Even. It’s something that’s been happening more frequently, this armor he’d built up over the years feeling more and more heavy  and burdensome as the days progress and he finds himself letting it falter from time to time - even for a moment - catching himself staring a little too long, or acting a little too invested. He’s aware that it’s a problem, and he’s trying to patch up the weak spots, the chinks in the iron, but truth be told - he’s just so tired._

 

_The whole situation reads like a Young Adult novel, and that in and of itself makes him a little queasy. It was the summer Sonja’s parents divorced and it meant she only lived on the same street as him a few days a week - half her week with her dad and the other half with her mom. It meant it was a lot less convenient for them to see each other most days. It meant Isak was lonely too often. And it meant that when Even moved across the street a few weeks later, Isak was ready to latch onto any close-range friendship he could get._

 

_What he didn’t expect was for blonde hair to all of a sudden become fascinating; noticing things like texture and shape and wanting to touch to see if it was indeed as soft as it appeared. He didn’t expect for blue to become his favorite color, never fond of any particular shade before this. Colors had always just been colors - nothing special or to write home about. But blue was suddenly warm and inviting. It was a drowning death he wished for every time Even’s eyes were aimed at his own._

 

_He didn’t expect to think about long slim necks, or firm chests and broad shoulders when he was lying down in the evenings. Didn’t expect for his mind to whir a mile a minute every time the older boy laughed at something he said, making him wish that sound was the soundtrack to his life. He didn’t know that he would have to guard how overtly he stared at his lips, his collarbone, or his hands. He didn’t expect to wake up with messy sheets and a clear memory of Even running through his dreams the night before. He didn’t expect to start developing feelings for a boy whose smile could cure diseases and who, some days, seemed to maybe stare right back, lingering on his own lips, his own collarbones, his own hands._

 

 _He was fifteen, and yeah, maybe he’d spent some time perusing gay porn on incognito mode. Maybe he’d daydreamed about flat hard lines instead of curvy soft ones. Maybe he’d entertained thoughts of other dicks while he stroked his own. Maybe all of that was true, but he didn’t think any of it was relevant, because while all signs definitely pointed to to a flashing neon sign that said GAY, he never thought he’d live to see himself admit to maybe, possibly,_ being _gay._

 

_But that’s another story for another day._

 

_The point is, he didn’t expect any of it, so he didn’t know how to properly handle it either. Which means he didn’t expect Sonja to fall for him too. He didn’t think that introducing them would do anything more than cause a vague disruption in his and Sonja’s Saturday night movie marathons - because now they had another set of opinions to filter through. He didn’t expect how heavy his heart would feel with the weight of listening to Sonja go on and on about the mannerisms that were so unique to Even - things Isak noticed first and wanted desperately to ramble on about for hours but never had the opportunity to share. He didn’t expect the rip in his chest when he first saw them kissing on Even’s front porch when he walked out his own front door. And he didn’t expect that he’d spend the next seven years wrapping up and bandaging his heart, desperately trying to numb the deep dull ache, every time a new piece of it broke and shattered._

 

 _He did his best, and his best meant keeping Even at an arm's distance so he could try and get through his days breathing instead of suffocating whenever he heard whispered ‘I love you’s’ on Sonja’s bedroom floor late Sunday nights when they were all meant to be spending time together, but somehow he had just become the third wheel._ _It meant getting a reputation as a stuck up kid who couldn’t be bothered to make time for his best friend's boyfriend instead of agreeing to tutor Even in advanced biology when he really needed it and even offered to pay Isak for his time. It meant pretending he wasn’t interested in anything Even had to say and feigning aloofness over how passionate Even was about everything, when all he really wanted to do was cuddle him close on the couch and do nothing else. And it meant more or less ignoring Even’s existence while trying desperately to avoid the hurt and confused look on Even’s face when he did just that. And so that’s what he did. He did all of those things, and nobody saw his indifference as radical behavior anymore. It was just the way things were: Isak didn’t like Even._

 

_But it didn’t work._

 

_Seven years of doing everything he knew in order to protect himself, carefully building an armor to live in - not even recognizing himself without it anymore - but it hadn’t worked. It was just over six years since Isak had come out, a tearful moment with Sonja on his bed and an awkward few days afterwards where Even silently stared at him from across rooms. It was one serious boyfriend that lasted all of fourteen months, and a string of Grindr hookups that were mostly forgettable - and he still wasn’t over it._

 

_It was exhausting and he hated it. Hated all of it. Hated the weeks when Even would spend the night at their apartment, finding it impossible to ignore the man, let alone the sweet picture of domesticity Even and Sonja painted. It didn’t help when they got that damn dog either._

 

_It was why he put all his effort into finding a job while he finished his masters. One more month and he'd be moving into his own place. The only thing giving him the will power to stand against Sonja in her push back towards the entire idea - because she didn’t like it and she made no secret about it either, constantly leaving passive aggressive comments in any conversations she could regarding, what she deemed, the most irresponsible decision he could be making at this age. Insisted he stay so that his financial burden wasn’t so great. But she didn’t get it. She didn’t understand that what he wanted more desperately than trying to be over a man he never had and never would have, was just the freedom to breathe. To not choke on his own breaking heart over the most ridiculous unrequited crush he could have ever developed. He just couldn’t spend any more time than was strictly necessary observing those two and feeling like shit every time he wished it was him instead of her._

 

_He just wanted to breathe._

 

_Her nagging died down a little when he placed a deposit down for an apartment in their building, just one floor below her, but it made the situation only marginally better. Because bottom line: it was Even and Sonja, not Even and Isak. And that was the song he sung himself to sleep with._

 

_So yeah, one more month and he’d be free of this front row ticket to his own personal hell._

 

_And that’s what he keeps telling himself - one more month - because right now Even is laid up on the couch using Sonja’s laptop, unphased that Isak had been sitting there first and didn’t seem to mind when his socked feet slowly fell from their position, surreptitiously tucking under Isak’s thighs, causing him to sit up like he’d been burned and quickly covering it up with an annoyed scowl and moving to the armchair across from them._

 

_One more month, he tells himself, when Even gets up and decides to make dinner because he doesn’t have anymore groceries at his place. And Isak is tired, so tired, so he takes the offered fork and digs into the pot of noodles being shared between the two of them, forgetting himself for a moment - both aware that this is the closest they’ve come to looking like friends in too many years, and neither of them making any sudden movements, too afraid to break the spell._

 

_One more month, he faintly reminds himself two joints in, both of them on Isak’s bed because the windows circulated the air better in that part of the apartment and Sonja could always tell when someone had been smoking._

 

_One more month. One more month. One more month…_

 

_But somewhere along the line he forgot that he was making excuses for himself. Somewhere along the line he let himself just be. He allowed himself to suffocate in the thick air that was Even, somehow simultaneously feeling like breathing as well. Somewhere along the line he found himself making a joke while he shared a pillow with Even, watching as he squeezed his eyes in laughter while his mouth dropped open, exposing immaculate teeth and a bubblegum tongue. Somewhere along the line, jokes and laughter died down and he drowned in blue for the first time since he was fifteen years old. And somewhere along the line he learned first hand what it was like to feel Even for himself._

 

_On this night, Sonja’s name was quieter than it had been in many years. He pushed it down, knowing it’d somehow be accessible later - but also easy to ignore now._

 

_On this night he found out that Even’s hair really was soft, and cascaded through his fingers like a waterfall of gold. That his tongue was sweeter than any candy, filling his mouth gently and leaving its mark as it rubbed against his own - exploring, tasting, memorizing. And when Even said his name while Isak bit the insides of this thighs and slowly, languidly, licked the lines of his hips - a quiver and desperation lacing his voice - that was the sound he wanted as the soundtrack to his life._

 

_He basked in the wet sounds of skin slapping on skin when Even’s hips met his back, every thrust like he was searching for more. Needing more. He clawed at the sheets and bit his wrist to keep himself from moaning and crying out - only to do just that when Even bent over, breath coming in pants over his ear and said, “Don’t hold back. Not tonight Isak.” He begged him. “Please— just not tonight.”_

 

_So he didn’t. Not tonight. He could have tonight._

 

_So he allowed himself to be loud and didn’t try to stop his legs when they trembled around Even’s waist as he pushed into him with everything he had - Even somehow knowing he wanted it hard, needed it that way. He was vocal and dirty, and Even was responsive and rough._

 

_It was frantic and hot until it wasn’t anymore._

 

_Until they let it turn slow and molten and warm, and it became something to be savored. Remembered. Reveled in._

 

_And when Isak found himself in Even’s lap, pushing himself onto him in fluid movements, feeling the sexiest he’d ever felt in his life, while the older man’s hands gripped his hips like a vice and his gaze roamed over Isak like a prize he’d just won - he let Even grab his jaw and silently guide his eyes back to his own. He pushed his hands in his hair and pressed their foreheads together, rocking himself back onto Even and letting himself drown in blue for one more time. Pants coming in heavy and wet. Jaws lax, mouths gaped, and lips centimeters apart - moans being released from one and received into the other_

 

 _He didn’t ignore the moisture that showed up at the edge of Even’s eyes, but never spilled over. The pad of his thumb pressed to the skin beneath, ready to catch any stray tear that dared to release itself._   _He didn’t ignore the quiver of Even’s bottom lip when everything became too much, became too overwhelming - because Isak felt it too. Was alive with the stimulation and buzzing with the sensations of finally being this close - this intimate - with the man that had held his heart for far too many years._

 

_So he pressed kisses to his mouth and sucked his lip in between his own, biting down when Even’s hand wrapped around him and tugged until Isak spilled over the two of them. He was spent and and needy and desperate, but not yet done  not yet ready for this to be over. Dropping his head onto Evens shoulder And relaxing his legs, he came alive once more as Even hammered into him. Careless moans escaping Isak’s tongue while Even released a chant of “Isak” like a prayer - breathy but strong._

 

 _And as they lay in his bed, deafening silence having replaced the sounds of passion - one set of eyes refusing to leave the other - he allowed himself one thing more. He knew the evening was over. Knew, now that their bodies were no longer joined intimately, that he needed to let the cold wave of reality wash over him. Deserving whatever brutal wake up it brought with it. But_ _before Sonja’s name could get too loud again, before he had to remind himself he should still be making excuses to avoid anymore pain, he reached forward, stretching out to touch Even - both pairs of lips meeting in the middle - and taste one more time._

 

_Just for tonight._

 

_Because tomorrow he was fucked._

 

_-_

 

_**INCOMING CALL: SONJA** _

_He picked up the phone without thinking - only now becoming aware that she hadn’t called to let him know she landed - voice scratchy from sleep and passionate overuse just a few hours prior, choosing to ignore the clock that read 03:42 and the long warm body pressed up against his that still hadn’t left._

 

_“Sonja? Is everything ok?”_

 

_There was heavy breathing on the other end, and then a breath catching in a throat. A sob._

_“Iss—” No. “She’s gone. Sarah—” No. “She’s gone.”_

 

_Tonight. He was fucked tonight._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they _definitely_ have some history. But why do they hate each other so much?
> 
> Are you guys enjoying this? Are we feeling anything??


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